Fallen From Grace
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: Barty's biggest weakness had always been his curiosity, and Potter woke his like nothing else. He truly had no one to blame but himself. Now they were so entangled that Barty didn't know how to untangle himself. The worst part was that he wasn't sure that be wanted to. He could only hope that satisfaction would bring him back.
1. Glimpse

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **C** **ollection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (colour) Black

* * *

 **Glimpse**

He couldn't believe his luck. Of all the people it had to be _he_ who took the seat beside him; the one everyone believed was responsible for his Lord's fall.

How could people believe that this small child had killed his Lord?

It was preposterous. Nothing short of blasphemous.

Oh, how he longed to wrap his hands around that dainty, pale neck; see those blood red lips turn blue and the light leave the Avada Kedavra eyes.

In moments like these he cursed his father more than ever. If his father were a better wizard he wouldn't have to feel this longing. This infernal longing that only served to accentuate the hell his life had become.

If his father were a better wizard he would have been submerged in blissful ignorance. Nothing but a mindless drone under his father's control. But no, because of his father's incompetence he had to be subjected to this torture. He was aware of everything, he just couldn't act. Though never had he wished more than at that moment to be able to do something.

But he couldn't.

So, he did the only thing he could. He observed. Every breath the boy took, every blink. He took everything in. He memorized every detail. It could be useful, he told himself, his Lord may need the information. He told himself that was the only reason. It wasn't because he found the teen's eyes mesmerizing, nor was he fascinated with that creamy skin, or with his darker than black hair. It was all because it could be useful to his Lord, nothing more, nothing less.

So he looked, and because he looked he caught things that no one else seemed to see.

He caught the slight flinch when someone touched the boy's back. He caught the cold look in his eyes when no one was looking. He caught the disdain that briefly appeared in his expression when everyone's back was turned.

Those little things made him continue to observe; curious to see if there was more to it than just a bad day.

While everyone was watching the idiots on the brooms, he was watching the small wizard – a far more interesting way to spend his time, in his humble opinion.

Though, before he could come to any sort of conclusion the boy was moving away. He wanted to curse, to scream. The boy was a puzzle. He hated unsolved puzzles. He wanted to see how and why the boy ticked, wanted to peel away all those layers that the child seemed to cloak himself with.

The boy was the only interesting thing he had come across in more than a decade. He wanted it back.

While he was lost in his mind, thoughts of the boy consuming him, he felt something burn up his arm, resonating with his very magic. He recognized the feeling instantly. His Lord. His Lord was calling.

It took him a moment to fight off the euphoric feeling to notice that he had moved. He had moved on his own accord.

He cackled, the sound lost amidst the chaos of the campsite.

He was free, and his Lord awaited him.

Thoughts of the boy fled his mind.


	2. Slippery Slope

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (word) Revolting

* * *

 **Slippery Slope**

He couldn't believe how far the old fool had fallen, how easy it was to deceive the great Albus Dumbledore.

How would the old fool react if he knew just who he had let into his school?

Barty willed away endless hours of boredom imaging his reaction, he was sure it would be immensely entertaining.

He glanced up and was caught in brilliant green. How was it that whenever he laid eyes on the child every notion of boredom flew out the window?

His master had told him to observe the child, and he did. However, he was man enough to admit that it had stopped being a simple order long ago. Had it ever been a simple order to begin with? He clearly remembered how fascinated he had been at the World Quidditch Cup.

He was unwavering loyal to his Lord, but his curiosity had always been his greatest weakness – and Potter woke his curiosity like nothing else.

In the week he had found himself at Hogwarts he had been watching Potter every chance he got. Potter was the perfect, little Gryffindor. A fierce lion, ready to defend his pride. He was everything the Hero of the Light should be. He was also a mediocre student, more interest in Quidditch than studying.

All in all, Potter was just like any other teenager at Hogwarts.

However, when no one was watching, Potter would curl up with a book in some out of the way alcove. He would practice magic that the seventh years had difficulty with. He would lay in wait, like a snake, and curse those that tormented him in the back, leaving no trace that he had been the one to have done it.

All in all, Potter was a walking contradiction.

So, he watched Potter. Fascinated by every new layer he uncovered, wondering what the future would bring if he was already so hooked after only one week.

* * *

Barty delighted in putting the students under the Imperius. He still couldn't believe that Dumbledore had allowed him to cast it on his precious students. He had to wonder if the man truly was senile.

Still, no matter how fun it was to make all those students do the most humiliating things, what really interested him was Potter. He didn't think Potter would be able to resist, but he wanted to see if Potter would at least be able to put up a fight. The students he had been through hadn't a strong enough will to even put up a fight.

He was almost giddy when he cast the curse on Potter.

He had to stop himself from cackling when Potter not only fought, but broke it.

Class soon ended and he dismissed the students, however his hungry gaze never left the slight figure of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Later that day, right before curfew, he was slightly surprised to hear a knock on his office door. Students did their best to avoid him.

He grimaced when he noticed the time was almost up. Sighing, he took out his flask and took a swallow. He grimaced at the taste – it was absolutely revolting – but needs must, and he wouldn't fail his Lord.

"Come in!" He hid his surprise when he saw Potter stepping into the room. The Gryffindor looked around curiously, not showing any sort of discomfort. "Potter, do you need anything?"

Potter looked at him, those eery green eyes seemingly glowing, and he had to stop himself from fidgeting. It was ridiculous, he was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters, he would not fidget because of a fourteen year old.

"I was wondering, Professor, if you could answer some questions I have."

Barty didn't remember Potter's voice being so soft. Was the teen even hiding his tone of voice? Was anything he showed the world real? Why would he hide in the first place? If the traitor was to be believed Potter relished in the fame he had. Then again… who trusted a traitor?

"Ask away, Potter."

"In class, while we were learning about the Unforgivables, you said there was more to it than simply saying the words. What did you mean?"

That certainly wasn't what Barty had been expecting. He hadn't thought that many of the students would remember that little bit. Dark Magic was perceived in such a bad light that most wizards and witches never bothered learning even the theory behind it.

"Why do you want to know?" There were several reasons why Potter might want to know, none of them something the Golden Boy should be interested in – at least that would have been his thoughts before he had actually _seen_ Potter. Now it could be anything from academic curiosity to wanting to cast the curses.

"Curiosity," Potter replied and Barty could detect no lie, even so he was sure that Potter wasn't telling him everything either.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to talk with Potter about this. Maybe he would finally solve Potter and he would be able to go back to his mission without Potter occupying more of his mind than need be.

He couldn't see how it could hurt.


	3. Point of no Return

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (restriction) Must take place on Halloween, no time jumps.

(word) Morbid

* * *

 **Point of no Return**

Barty had to stop himself from cackling. It was almost time. His Lord's plan was coming to fruition. Just a little more and everything would be set.

He watched as the final piece of his Lord's plan flew up from the Goblet. The silence that followed was like music to his ears.

He looked around the Great Hall, only for his eyes to land on the lithe teenager. He froze in place when the green eyes looked right at him. He wasn't sure but there seemed to a spark of betrayal when the teen looked at him. Which was absurd, of course, why would Potter feel betrayed by him?

It was true that he had been spending a lot of time with the teen, as Moody, but that would still not be enough reason for Potter to feel betrayed by him.

Barty admitted that he hadn't expected for that one question to have lead to something more. Every day, after dinner, Potter would make his way to his office, always some question on the tip of his tongue. It had been surprising for Barty to realize that he actually looked forward to those meetings. Potter was rather insightful. And Barty was almost positive that Potter dropped his mask around him. Which was a good thing, it would allow Barty to gather more information for his Lord.

Barty followed everyone else out of the Great Hall. He was curious to see how Potter would react, besides everyone's reaction will be important to see as well. He had several conversations with Dumbledore and it had looked as if the way Dumbledore saw Potter wasn't quite how everyone else perceived it.

Barty couldn't help but wonder if everyone on the Light side used masks as well as Potter. He almost sneered at the hypocrisy of the Light. They called the Dark manipulative, dishonest; when the truth was that the Dark was far more honest about their intentions, about their emotions.

Barty shook his head, now wasn't the time to think about those things. He had a role to play.

Barty truly wasn't surprised when the traitor started in on Potter right away. Barty thought that if Snape could get away with it he would accuse Potter of every little thing that was wrong in the world. Such a deep seethed hate could have easily been mistaken by others as a Death Eater resenting Potter for killing their Lord. Barty, however, knew better. He had gone to school with Snape, even if he had been a few years behind them, he knew that the only reason Snape hated Potter so much was because he was the son of James Potter and Lily Evans. The person Snape despised more than anything and Snape's obsession – because that was what Lily Evans was for Snape. It was utterly petty, in Barty's opinion, which just made him despise Snape even more.

Snape was blind to what was right in front of him, and all because a petty grudge.

As expected, Potter was the perfect Gryffindor. It was fascinating for Barty to watch this side of him when he had gotten to know the other one. Though, Barty was sure he was the only one that saw the looks Potter gave him. He was sure that Potter would be visiting him after the little meeting they were in now.

Barty was of two minds about that. On one hand, he was more than curious about those looks, on be other hand he wasn't sure he wanted to know what they meant. He had the feeling that whatever would happen, things would change.

He made his excuses when the students where dismissed and made his way to his quarters. He had a feeling that his meeting with Potter would require more privacy than his office, and he was certain that Potter would know how to find him. Logically he knew that he shouldn't feel so eager to see Potter, but he truly couldn't help it and it was approaching the point where he really didn't care.

Not ten minutes after he made it to his quarters there was a knock on the portray.

He smirked, he knew Potter would find it. He just really wanted to know how Potter did it.

He brought the wards on the entrance down, and opened the portray with a wave of his wand. Potter stepped through, looking around curiously before he looked at him. Barty didn't move from his seat on the armchair, nor did he say anything. He wanted Potter to make the first move.

Potter took a seat on the sofa, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world, but by this time Barty knew just how well Potter was able to hide himself. For all he knew Potter could be planning his murder.

"Why did you do it?"

He frowned at Potter, truly not knowing what the boy was talking about.

"I know you're not Moody." Barty froze, unable to even reach for his wand. Potter knew? "I've know almost since the beginning. I know you're Barty Crouch, for a moment I didn't know which one you were, but after seeing both of you in the same place, I know which one you are. I won't ask how you're not dead, or what you're doing here. I just want to know why you put my name in the Goblet – not that I'm all that surprised that my name came out of the Goblet. It is Halloween, and something always happens on Halloween. But if you want to kill me couldn't you have done that in any of those times we met?"

The way Potter talked about his own death was slightly morbid. Then again, Potter was no stranger to death, was he? That might explain his nonchalance about it. Or it could be just another of his masks. Barty had the urge to strip him of all his disguises. He wanted Harry Potter bear before him, he wanted to see what no one else saw. He wanted Potter to trust him, and that realization was almost enough to undo him.

"I don't want to kill you." Only when the words were out of his mouth did Barty realize how true they were. He truly didn't want to kill Potter. The desire may have been there at the beginning but now there wasn't a trace of it. "My Lord commanded it of me."

Potter sighed at that, looking resigned instead of worried, and Barty was even more curious about the Gryffindor.

"Why didn't you tell anyone that I'm not Moody?"

"Does it matter?"

No, Barty supposed it didn't.

"And now? Will you tell?"

"Not today." Potter tilted his head slightly. "Will you show me what you look like?"

"Not today."


	4. Pretending

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (plot theme) Attending a Halloween themed party

(food/drink) Sweets/Candy

* * *

 **Pretending**

Potter froze on the spot when he entered Barty's quarters. Not that Barty blamed him, things did look a little different.

"Halloween was last week," Potter said, even though he wasn't looking at the decorations around the room. Potter was looking right at him. Barty smirked, and Potter's eyes went to his mouth.

"I thought you needed cheering up, considering the week you've been having." Barty wasn't truly surprised when the school shunned Potter after the Goblet incident. People were fickle, he had learned that at an early age. There were very few people he trusted – it was ironic that most of those people were deranged lunatics.

"So, you decided to throw me a Halloween party?" Potter raised an eyebrow and stepped fully into the room.

"A Halloween party with _sweets_ , you can't forget the sweets. Those always cheer people up."

Potter chuckled and took a seat on the armchair by the fire.

"You know what would really cheer me up? If you would let me see how you look."

Barty shook his head and sighed. He hadn't taken the polyjuice but he had a mask on, showing only the bottom half of his face.

"Come now, Potter, you know I can't." He wanted to, he really did. Part of it out o curiosity, another part because he truly wanted to see how Potter would react to him. Potter was always so surprising, would Potter surprise him in that as well?

"I would like it if you called me Harry." Potter looked away, but not before Barty was able to see the slight blush painting his cheeks.

"Harry..." he tested the name on his tongue, and Harry's head snapped towards him, his eyes widening slightly.

Before Barty truly realized what he was doing he had taken the few steps he needed towards Harry and pulled him from the armchair, wrapping his arms around the slender teen.

"It's a party, we should dance."

Harry wrapped his arms around Barty's neck, while Barty buried his head in the silky black locks, neither truly caring that there was no music for them to dance to.

"I like your voice," Harry murmured, his head leaning against Barty's chest. Barty was sure that Harry was able to feel the fast beating of his heart, his traitorous heart.

"You're not what I was expecting." Barty closed his eyes, giving himself away to the feeling of holding the small Gryffindor.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Barty chuckled, bitter irony feeling him. A bad thing? Well, Barty supposed it depended on how one looked at it. Was it a bad thing that he was so very fascinated by the one that was supposed to be his enemy? Was it a bad thing that his enemy was nothing like they had imagined? Was it a bad thing that he wanted to beg his Lord to spare Harry's life?

"No, Harry." His arms tightened around the teen. "It's not a bad thing at all."

For the moment, Barty could pretend.


	5. Uncomplicated

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (creature/being) Vampire

* * *

 **Uncomplicated**

Barty took the potion just moments before Harry slipped into the room. He wasn't surprised when he saw the small frown that marred Harry's expression. He knew that Harry wanted to see him, but it was better like this.

Barty was far from stupid. He could see the attraction between them, even if it was more on his part than Harry's. But there was something from Harry, he had felt it when they had danced together.

Barty wasn't one to fear, but he was afraid of what might be between them. He was afraid of what he might do. He didn't trust himself around Harry, and not for any reason he might have previously thought.

Looking like Moody was a protection for both himself and Harry.

"You came earlier today."

He made his way towards the armchair when Harry sprawled himself over the sofa. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He looked utterly relaxed, and not for the first time Barty wondered how Harry could feel so at ease knowing he was in the same room as a murderer, as a Death Eater.

"They were getting on my last nerve, especially Ron. Honestly, why would I need more fame? Why would I even want it?" Harry sighed once more and opened his eyes. "I'm so tired, Barty. I feel like I can never be myself."

"You can be yourself with me." _You can trust me_ , he wanted to add. It was absurd, this desire he had for Harry to trust him. Barty wouldn't trust himself in Harry's situation, so it really didn't surprise him that Harry didn't trust him. Only an idiot would trust someone who had admitted to being part of a plot to either kill or harm them, and Harry was no idiot.

"Can I?" Harry looked at him, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I can tell you about everything I find fascinating in the muggle world without being called a blood traitor? I can tell you that I have friends that aren't human and don't think any less of them? I can tell you that I had a crush on a vampire and wasn't disgusted by the thought of kissing a magical creature? Can I truly be myself with you?"

Barty would never voice it out loud, but the thing that bothered him the most about all of that was that Harry had had a crush on someone. The fact that it was a vampire wasn't important, what was important was that Harry had wanted to kiss them. That made Barty quite eager to bring that particular vampire to a more permanent state of death.

"You can." Though he would rather there were no more confessions of crushes. "I will think no different of you. I may be a loyal Death Eater, but I am not blind to the world at large as many of my comrades are. Neither is the Dark Lord. Death and destruction wasn't all we stood for before the war truly broke out. I wasn't part of it then, too young, I only joined when the war was already raging, but I talked with the older Death Eaters. How things were before our Lord became more brutal. I will not think any less of you for your beliefs. At least not now that I have gotten to know you." He found Harry utterly fascinating, he doubted Harry could say anything that would make him think less of the Gryffindor. It pained him to know that sooner or later Harry would be killed by his Lord. Harry was such a bright mind, it was a waste to kill him.

He sighed, looking away. There was no point thinking about it. His Lord would not change his mind, and Harry would not bow to the Dark Lord, he knew that much about them both.

It was ironic just how similar they were.

He looked back to the teen sprawling on his couch and grinned. "Besides, I may be a pureblood but I am fairly knowledgeable about the muggle world. I was a Ravenclaw, after all. I was always eager to learn. I find the movies the muggles have rather interesting."

"You like muggle movies?" Harry snorted, and Barty sniffed.

"I am a man full of surprises."

Harry laughed – it was a bright, carefree sound, and Barty smiled.

Life was getting more complicated by the day, his emotions playing havoc with his mind, and the lines between what he wanted and his duty became more blurred by the second. However, every time he made Harry laugh and forget about the world around them, Barty found that life wasn't complicated at all.


	6. Control

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (dialogue) "You've seen one too many movies." / "Don't blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos. Movies make the psychos more creative!"

* * *

 **Control**

Barty had never seen Harry angry. He had seen the teen annoyed, frustrated, exasperated, amongst many others, but angry hadn't been one of them.

He had to say, it was a beautiful sight.

Magic crackled around the teen, his black hair looking like a dark halo, and his bright green eyes practically glowing.

It was one of the most arousing things Barty had ever seen, though it made him question the little sanity he had when the thing he enjoyed most were the sweet words of torture falling from those blood red lips.

"You have seen one too many movies." Barty interrupted the impressive rant. No matter how much he enjoyed the picture that popped into his mind of Harry's creamy skin painted with the blood of his father, he knew it was very unlikely that Harry would be able to kidnap a Ministry official, hold him in a secure cell and torture him for days on end. Mostly because his father was already being held captive by his Lord.

Though… maybe, if his Lord permitted it, Harry and he could spend some time playing with his so called father. He could teach Harry so much. He could show Harry how to prolong the torture for days on end without breaking the mind. He could show Harry such wonderful curses, and if Harry was truly insistent on using muggle means as he was describing, then Barty would gladly look on as Harry carved up his dear father and bathed in his blood.

"Don't blame the movies. Movies don't create psychos. Movies make the psychos more creative!"

Barty threw his head back and laughed.

"I don't recall calling you a psycho." He grinned at the sulking teen.

"I'm sure you were thinking it."

"Not at all. I was just thinking that you would look lovely bathed in crimson."

Harry turned slightly to hide his blush. Barty devoured his every move, he adored seeing the way he affected the teen. It was exhilarating to know that even when he looked as he did that he effected Harry.

"Don't say that."

He almost didn't hear the words.

"Why?"

Barty regretted asking the moment Harry turned back and those eyes locked on him. Harry stalked towards him with the grace of a panther, and Barty felt a shiver run down his spin.

Harry was standing between his legs, and Barty felt his warm breath wash over his ear when Harry leaned in.

"When you say things like that, it makes me want to kiss you. To taste your lips so that they can no longer say such sweet nothings." Barty closed his eyes, his hands gripping the armrests of his armchair. "I refuse to have my first kiss with a disguise."

Then Harry's warmth was gone, and Barty snapped his eyes open.

Harry was standing back near the sofa, the light of the fireplace dancing in his eyes.

Barty's grip on the armrests tightened. He was afraid that if he let go he would lose the tiny shred of control he had left.

The tiny smirk he could see playing on those sinful lips sure wasn't helping matters.


	7. Warmth

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (word) Macabre

(location) Azkaban Burial Grounds

* * *

 **Warmth**

"What is it?" Barty asked. Harry had been more silent than usual. Well, maybe not silent per se, more like pensive. He seemed distracted, even when casting the spells that Barty had been showing him.

It wasn't usual. Something Barty had learned about Harry was that Harry was very passionate about magic when he wasn't pretending to be a lackluster student. Harry was like a sponge when they were talking about magic, and he always paid attention when Barty was telling him about new spells.

Harry lowered the book he had been skimming. He looked slightly unsure and Barty was rather curious about whatever was going through the teen's mind. Unsure usually wasn't something that he associated with Harry.

"You told me your mother died shortly after she exchanged places with you," Harry said softly, but even so, Barty tensed. He may hate his father, but his mother had been everything to him. "Did you ever visit her grave?"

Barty put the book he had been holding on the table. He could feel his hands shaking.

"I… She died in Azkaban. I never went back there. They don't bury all those that die there. Most are thrown at see. Sometimes the families want the bodies, but my father never asked for hers. I don't… I don't know if they buried her."

He would never be able to tell his mother how grateful he was. She would never know just what it meant to him that she had never given up on him.

"You should go." He almost didn't hear the whispered words. He opened his eyes, he didn't remember closing them, and looked at Harry. "I know the feeling. I know what it feels like to have your parents sacrifice themselves for you. I can hear my mother begging for my life. That's the only memory I have of her voice. I… She'll never know how grateful I am. She'll never know how much it means to me that she fought for me. I would give everything to be able to see her grave. You should go."

Nothing but the crackling of the fire filled the silence in the room.

"I'm afraid." Barty looked away from the brilliant, green eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment in them. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak to Harry. But just thinking of Azkaban – he could still feel the biting cold of the stone floor, the rattling breathing of the Dementors gliding in front of his cell, he could taste the salty air on his tongue, and hear the hopeless screams of his friends and comrades. Azkaban, one never truly leaved it, no matter how short a time one spends there.

He heard the rustling of clothes and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see Harry leave. Harry had become… he didn't really know what Harry had become, but the simple thought of Harry _leaving_ … it was just too hard to bear.

He snapped his eyes open when he felt a weight leaning against him. Harry was beside him, his eyes full of understanding, and a small smile on his lips.

"I'll go with you."

The words were a gentle caress and Barty knew he was lost.

* * *

Barty had followed Harry's lead when it came to sneaking out of Hogwarts, and damn the teen sure knew how to get out unseen, but when it came to actually get to the burial grounds of Azkaban Barty took the lead.

He was thankful that the burial grounds weren't by the prison itself. They were still on the island, but slightly further down, almost by the shore. It was usually devoid of Dementors, and not truly monitored by the aurors. Apparently, they believed that everyone deserved to mourn their dead in peace.

It was a small consolation to those that had family on those accursed grounds, but it was something.

Still, when they reached the shore to go to the island Barty hesitated. His wand was heating up, and he knew that he should take his next dose of the potion, but he didn't want to. He wanted to mourn his mother as himself.

"Harry," he whispered and in a second the teen was beside him, concern shinning in those stunning emerald eyes. Barty didn't move, didn't say anything. He just waited for the potion to run its course.

Barty knew it had only been a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity passed. He studied Harry's expression closely, saw those beautiful eyes widen slightly, and heard Harry's breath catch. He wished to be closer, close enough to feel Harry's heart beat.

Even after the potion had run its course he didn't move.

Nor did he move when soft, dainty finger reached for his face. A featherlight caress traced every contour of his features, and his heart almost beat out of his chest when gentle fingers traced his lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the most tender touch he had had in years.

"Hello, Barty."

He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the warm smile on Harry's features. It was the first time he saw that smile, and he was immediately possessive of it. He didn't want anyone to see that smile, that particular smile should be his and his alone.

"It's the first time you call me by my name."

If possible the smile grew warmer.

"It's the first time I'm seeing you."

Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him towards a small boat. Barty startled slightly, he had almost forgotten why they were there.

The trip across the sea was shorter than Barty remembered, then again, he had been completely out of it when he had last made it across.

He wasn't even on the island yet and he could already feel the cold seep into his bones. It wasn't even the enjoyable cold of a fresh winter morning. It was dead and decaying, it robbed you of every drop of warmth you possessed. Barty knew the feeling only too well.

He stumbled out of the boat, only Harry's firm grasp on his hand stopping him from tumbling to the ground. That small, warm hand was the only thing grounding him.

He never let go of that hand while they made their way towards the small graveyard they could see just a little ahead. Barty was sure that if it weren't for that hand holding onto his own he wouldn't have made it two steps into the island.

The graves come into view and Barty's steps faltered.

He couldn't.

He didn't want to see.

His mother deserved better.

He couldn't.

Harry's grip on his hand tightened and he took a step forward, then another, and another. And one more.

He was afraid to look, he didn't want to see. Wasn't it enough that he had glimpsed the dilapidated graves, the dead trees, and withering flowers? Wasn't it enough that the howling wind brought the shattered screams of the prisoners to their ears? Wasn't it enough that he felt the cold settle deep in his soul, grasping at the little shards of sanity he had been able to hoard?

The grip on his hand tightened.

He looked.

He looked over every grave, eyes scanning every name carved into the rotten wood and broken stone. He staggered between the graves, his knees feeling weaker by the second. His strength left him when he reached the last one.

His mother deserved better, she deserved so much better. Still, part of him was elated that she had escaped these accursed grounds, even if it was an empty joy. It didn't change the fact that his mother deserved so much better. After everything she had sacrificed for him, she hadn't deserved the cold, dark sea.

He was pulled into a warm embrace, and he buried his head in the crook of Harry's neck. He listened to the sweet nothings whispered into his ear, understanding only a word here and there. However, that hardly mattered to him. What mattered was that he felt so incredibly warm and comforted when before he had known nothing but cold and despair in this macabre place.


	8. Far Too Late

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (word) Haunt(ed)

(weather) Thunder & Lightening Storm

* * *

 **Far Too Late**

His small trip to Azkaban haunted him. That place was poison. It infested you, tainted you, and it never truly left you. He hadn't stayed long, but it had been enough to bring him to his knees.

It had also been a wake-up call. He had broken, and Harry had picked up the pieces.

How had he gotten so involved? How had he allowed it? Harry was the enemy. His Lord would kill Harry by the end of the school year, and where would that leave Barty? Nursing the broken pieces of his heart. Though, this time Barty wasn't sure he would be able to recover.

Barty couldn't let that happen. He had gotten too close, he was even courting with betraying his Lord! He hadn't reported anything pertaining to Harry that wasn't common knowledge to his Lord. It was simply unacceptable. He was loyal, he would stay loyal, no matter how much it may pain him to do so.

He had to keep his distance from Harry, it was the only way.

* * *

It had been a week since he had seen Harry. He had changed the password to his quarters and hadn't given the new one to Harry. When Harry had knocked on his door he hadn't answered. The worst thing about it? Harry had stopped coming after the second day.

Was he that easy to replace? Had it meant so little to Harry that after two days he was over it?

Barty tried telling himself that it was fine, perfectly fine. It was what he wanted after all, he had wanted to keep his distance from Harry, hadn't he? Well, objective achieved: Harry was staying away. So, everything was just _fine_.

Barty snorted, turning on his bed. Yeah, fine… it was so fine that he couldn't sleep. So fine that he spent most of his days thinking about Harry. It was so fine, in fact, that he wanted nothing more than to hunt the teen down, shove him against the nearest flat surface and ravish those tempting lips. See? Everything was perfectly _fine_.

He sighed and turned once more, facing the window and seeing the thunderstorm warring outside. Barty brought down the silencing charms around the room, letting the sound of thunder fill his ears. He had always enjoyed storms. They were humbling, and wizards sometimes needed that experience.

Lightening flashed and the door to his room banged open.

In a heartbeat he had his wand pointing at the intruder, only to freeze when he saw blazing, green eyes locked on him.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, then he frowned. "Harry? How did you come in?" Not the best question he could ask, but he was at a loss for words.

Harry sneered, green eyes narrowing. "One of the Founders of this school was Salazar Slytherin, a parselmouth. Every entrance has a parseltongue override."

Well… that would explain a lot of things, actually; such as Harry moving through the school with such ease.

"Why are you here?"

Harry's eyes narrowed further. "Why am I here?" Thunder rumbled outside, as if to make up for Harry's silent rage. Barty had to stop a shiver from running down his spine. Dear Merlin, it was such an arousing sight. Rage looked delicious on Harry.

Slowly, looking far too much like a predator, Harry walked towards his bed. Harry put one knee on the bed, then another, and started crawling towards him. Barty was frozen in place. Harry crawled over his body, forcing Barty to lay flat on his back, looking up into bright, green eyes. Lightening flashed once more, bringing Harry's features into sharp contrast. Barty's breath caught.

"Why am I here?" Harry whispered, leaning closer. "Did you really think I would let you just… walk away?" Barty shivered when a small smirk spread on Harry's lips. Harry leaned further in, nuzzling against his neck. Barty's hands fastened on the sheets at his side when Harry's warm breath caressed his ear. "It's far too late for that, Barty."

Barty closed his eyes, surrendering, and outside the storm raged on.


	9. Free-fall

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 8 (word) Scream

44 (feeling) Anxiety

* * *

 **Free-fall**

"You know what to do, don't you?" Barty asked once more, feeling his heart racing out of his chest.

Harry smiled at him and Barty just wanted to curse him. Dear Merlin, how could the Gryffindor be so calm? He would be facing a dragon in a matter of hours. A dragon! What had they been thinking? They had to be completely out of their minds. Who thought it would be a good idea to make them face dragons? To make _Harry_ face dragons?

Barty wanted nothing more than to bundle Harry up and lock him away. He knew he couldn't, of course, but that didn't stop the want.

"Don't worry, Barty. I'll be the brave Gryffindor everyone is expecting."

Yes, well, that was precisely why Barty was so anxious.

* * *

Barty wanted to scream when the dragon broke free and chased after Harry. Harry was good, he was better than good, but what chance did he have against a dragon in the sky?

Harry had the egg, the task was over, and people were allowed to interfere. The dragon tamers were picking up their brooms, and Barty lost no time in joining them. It wouldn't even be considered strange for him to do so, since everyone knew that Moody had been an auror.

A scream rendered the air and Barty looked up, his heart stopping when he saw Harry jumping from his broom to avoid a torrent of flames. Harry tried to make a grab for his broom but it slipped right through his fingers.

Harry looked right at him and their eyes locked. Harry smiled.

Barty didn't even think before he acted. In seconds he was intercepting the free-falling teen, groaning when the force of the impact knocked the breath out of him. Neither noticed the dragon tamers around the dragon, nor the jubilant screams from the crowd. Barty had only eyes for Harry who still had that smile on his lips.

"I knew you would catch me."

"Always."


	10. Jackals

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (word) Creepy

(creature/being) Ghost

* * *

 **Jackals**

Barty shuddered as he walked through the halls of Hogwarts. Dear Merlin, he had never found them more creepy than at that particular time.

The Yule Ball had been announced just hours before and every female student of the school had suddenly turned into jackals. Giggling, tittering, packs of jackals that eyed the male student body like a juicy piece of meat.

Barty had even seen the Fat Friar float the other way when he had come across a pack of four stalking the Hufflepuff Champion. Barty had raised an eyebrow at the Friar and the ghost had snorted at him. "I may be a Hufflepuff," the Friar had said, "but I am not stupid enough to get involved in that mess. It's a kind of 'save yourself, if you can' situation." Barty had grimaced and nodded solemnly, completely agreeing with the ghost.

Barty hastened his pace when he saw two different packs eying up the same pray. He _did not_ want to be around when those two packs clashed, thank you very much.

When he closed the door to his quarters behind himself he actually slumped a little in relief. He was safe, he had made it.

He was just about to slump onto one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire when the door to his rooms banged opened and was slammed back shut in short order.

He started at the panting teen leaning against it, raising an eyebrow.

Harry took a deep breath, sliding to the floor and staying leaned against the door. "They'll never look for me here," Harry muttered, sounding utterly delighted, and Barty snorted.

"Problem with the adoring fans?"

Harry glared at him for a moment, then his eyes lit up and that glare turned into a devious smirk. Harry got to his feet slowly, his smirk turning gleeful when he saw the apprehensive frown starting to appear on Barty's face.

"Just think, Barty, I'll spend the whole night with one of them in my arms." Then the little minx flounced out of the room.

And, well, if the shelf next to Barty exploded shorty after in a show of uncontrollable rage, then there was no one there to mention it.


	11. You're Next

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (word) Gruesome

(story title) You're Next

* * *

 **You're Next**

Barty wasn't accustomed to feeling jealous. He had dated, of course, but he had never truly been invested in them. They were there for him to pass the time, nothing more. Even amongst his fellow Death Eaters he didn't feel jealous. He had been trained by the Dark Lord, he was one of the most favored amongst the Inner Circle, why would he feel any jealousy at all?

Usually it was others that were jealous of him.

Barty had never quite understood the feeling. What use was there for jealousy? If they wanted something then they should just take it. It was rather simple in his mind.

That is, it was simple until he had been unable to take what he wanted. He had to stand by and watch Harry in the arms of that _girl_. They danced and laughed and Harry seemed to be having the time of his life.

Jealousy had consumed him the moment he had seen them together. What right did she have to be in his arms? Barty should be the one holding Harry. He should have been the one at the Yule Ball with Harry, showing everyone that Harry was his. Because Harry was _his_ , and he wouldn't let a little girl that knew nothing about Harry think otherwise.

How dared she act as if she mattered? As if Harry saw her as anything more than a means to an end? How dared she giggle with her friends, and call Harry hers? She knew nothing about Harry. _Nothing_. She didn't know how Harry's eyes glowed when he was indulging in his magic. She didn't know how sharp his mind was. She didn't know how much he _loved_ magic. She didn't know he had a rather morbid sense of humor, or that he wanted to travel the world. Neither did she know that he liked to curl up with a book by the fireplace, even when there was no fire going. She didn't know how so very similar to the Dark Lord Harry was. She didn't know _Harry_. She didn't know him at all.

Not like Barty did.

 _No one_ knew Harry like Barty did.

His eyes followed the girl for the rest of the night, picturing her death. The manner of her death growing more gruesome the longer she stayed by Harry's side. If nothing else, the night was certainly providing an infinite number of new and creative ways to let lose his darker instincts.

Barty could hardly wait.


	12. Out to Play

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (dialogue) "Get the hell out of my house!"

* * *

 **Out to Play**

Barty was feeling rather giddy. He could hardly wait for Harry to arrive. The previous night had left him rather frisky, what with him picturing the death of that annoying little girl in so many different ways, and he couldn't wait any longer. He was slightly afraid that he might be pushing Harry too fast, but he was almost certain that he wasn't. He was sure that Harry was ready.

"Finally!" He jumped from his seat, a huge grin forming on his lips, when Harry walked in.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You seem excited."

Barty was almost jumping in place. "I have a Christmas gift for you. Well, two actually, but I'll give you the other one on Christmas day."

"Why can't this gift wait?" Barty's eyes lit up, and Harry chuckled. "Never mind. I can see that you're far too excited."

Barty nodded and laughed. "Let's go, we'll have to sneak out of Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head but there was a fond smile on his lips as he followed Barty out of the room.

* * *

"Will you tell me now where we're going?" Harry asked when they had been clear of Hogwarts' wards.

Barty shook his head, pulling him into his arms. "I want it to be a surprise. Hold on, alright?"

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Barty, and with a soft pop they were gone.

Barty held onto Harry when they re-appeared, a small smile on his lips when he saw the tiny frown Harry had. It was adorable how Harry detested all methods of wizard transportation aside from brooms.

Barty glanced around, making sure he was in the right place. His grin returned tenfold when he saw the house. He had feared he would have gotten it wrong since he had only been there that morning to make sure he would have a place to apparate to. But it had all looked the same to him, no individuality at all.

"Barty… what are we doing here?" Harry had been looking around as well, his arms tightening around Barty.

"It is my gift to you, Harry. I know how you feel; this is my way of showing you that I don't mind, that I'll be glad to help, if only you'll let me."

Killing curse green eyes were looking up at him, the moonlight making it look as if they glowed, and Barty was completely entranced. He had never known that death could look so alive.

"You won't leave me?" Harry asked and Barty laughed, a crazed edge to it.

"I'm afraid, my dear Harry, that after tonight, you'll be the one leaving me."

And he was, so very afraid; but he wanted Harry to be there. He wanted Harry to watch. Harry had shown him his true self, it was only right that Barty did the same.

"I won't. I never will."

Barty couldn't help but believe him.

* * *

Barty had thought of a million ways to do things, and his preferred idea so far was slow and bloody. Harry though, vetoed it from the start. Barty knew that Harry was right; people, more precisely Dumbledore, would find it suspicious if they came to a gruesome end. So, Barty put that idea aside. That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't be creative. He just had to stop himself from killing them.

There were so many ways to make them know despair without outright killing them, that Barty wouldn't let it hold him back. He wanted to put on a show for Harry, after all, and Harry deserved nothing but the best.

They made their way up the stairs, Barty sneering all the while. He couldn't believe Harry had grown up in this place. It seemed so… _ordinary_. How could someone like Harry come from a place like this?

Harry pointed towards a door, and Barty could hear voices coming from it. Barty almost clapped in his excitement; they were awake!

He grinned at Harry, feral and deranged, but Harry didn't seem to mind. He just smiled fondly and motioned for him to open the door. Well, who was Barty to refuse such an invitation?

He cast a silencing charm around the house – he had to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted – and slammed the door open.

The couple inside startled, the man tumbling from the bed, while the woman hit the nightstand. Barty walked in, sneering in disgust. Harry walked in behind him, keeping himself half hidden. The man got back on his feet, wheezing, his face an angry red.

"Get the hell out of my house!" the man blustered, puffing himself up.

Barty snorted, pointing his wand at the man. "Do you think you scare me, muggle?"

"Oh, my goodness," the woman wailed. "It's one of them, Vernon!" She flattened herself against the wall, looking absolutely terrified. Barty felt a satisfying thrill rush through him. Good, she should fear him.

Vernon waddled back, tripping over himself to get as far away from Barty as possible. "The Freak isn't here!" Vernon shouted.

Vernon _screamed_.

Barty was seething. How dare he! How dare he refer to Harry as a freak? Harry. His beautiful, amazing Harry. Barty snarled, and Vernon's screams grew in pitch.

A slender hand held his arm and he stopped the curse. He looked down into shinning, green eyes and felt his rage abate. Right, he couldn't destroy the muggle's mind right from the start. He cut the curse of, smirking at seeing the useless lump whimpering on the floor.

"Barty knows I'm not here, Uncle." Harry stepped out from behind him. His aunt gasped, while Vernon tried to glare at the Gryffindor.

"You!" Vernon managed to pull himself to his knees, still trembling, only the grip he had on the nightstand allowed him to remain upright.

"Me." Harry smiled, stepping in front of Barty. Barty wrapped an arm around the teen's waist, enjoying the wide eyed look it earned from the muggles. "Barty brought me here to give me my Christmas gift. Even though you are not the sharpest tools in the box, I'm certain you know what my gift is."

"Harry, please," his aunt whimpered, holding herself against the wall, as if it would grant her any sort of protection.

Harry turned towards her, an eyebrow raised. "Harry? Huh, I've been living here for over a decade. This is one of the first times I heard my name come from your mouth." Harry tilted his head. "Tell me, Aunt Petunia, do you really think pleading will work? After everything I lived through in this house, do you honestly think pleading will do anything more than amuse me?"

"You ungrateful Freak!" Vernon panted, having managed to bring himself to his feet, though he was wobbling a little. "We gave you a roof over your head. We fed you, clothed you, out of the goodness of our hearts and this is how you repay us?"

"No, Uncle." Harry shook his head, his hand wrapping around Barty's making it so that both were holding the wand. "This is me showing you the goodness in my heart. _Crucio_."

Barty moaned when he felt Harry's magic surge through him, mingling with his own. The screams of the muggle served as a wonderful symphony, and Barty closed his eyes, giving himself to the pleasure cursing through his body.

"No! Please, stop it. Stop it!" Petunia yelled, and Harry stopped the curse. Barty opened his eyes, seeing the woman clamber over the bed to reach her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Vernon," she sobbed, leaning over him.

"Barty, give me my gift." Harry moved away, sitting at the end of the bed.

Barty smirked, insanity clouding his eyes. "With pleasure."

With a flick of his wand Petunia was pinned to the wall, unable to move no matter how much she fought. "We're going to have so much fun," Barty cackled. "Ready to play, muggle?" Not giving Vernon any time to reply he hit him with a curse. The scream echoed around the bedroom, and Barty laughed. Vernon looked at his hands in horror, blood dripping from them onto his face. Every single nail had been ripped out, leaving mangled flesh in their place. Barty clapped giddily before conjuring two small bowls filled with salt, charming them with a compulsion spell. Vernon seemed to struggle for a little, before he buried his hands in the salt. Vernon whimpered and cried while Barty laughed and laughed.

"And don't you worry, you." Barty grinned at Petunia. "We'll play with you too."

"Barty?" Barty looked at Harry. "Leave her be." Barty frowned. "I want her to watch. I want her to know that she watched and did nothing." Barty's eyes lit up, a grin stretching his lips.

"As you wish, my dear Harry." His grin turned feral when he looked back at Vernon. "Do you know what this mean, muggle? It means I'll focus all my attention on you!" Vernon still had his hands buried in salt, tears and snot staining his face. It was a vast improvement from his usual looks, in Barty's opinion. "Oh, don't be like that, muggle. I won't kill you. Dear Harry doesn't want me to. Instead, I'll spend the whole night playing with you while your wife watches." Petunia only cried harder, horror painted on her features. "Let's clean those hands." Barty vanished the bowls, hitting Vernon with an aguamenti right after. "And now… let's get creative, shall we?"

Screams filled the master bedroom of number four long into the night, and when morning came knocking on their door, Harry and Barty had gone, leaving behind nothing more than nightmares.


	13. Dark Is The Night

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** (location) Cemetery/Graveyard (non-specific)

(story title) Dark Was the Night

* * *

 **Dark Was the Night**

"Where are we going this time?" Harry asked Barty as they sneaked out of Hogwarts once more on Christmas night.

Barty held him close, enjoy having Harry in his arms, even if it was for something as mundane as apparating. "I want it to be a surprise." Barty smiled at the pout he received. He wanted nothing more than to kiss away that pout, but he couldn't. He wouldn't dare. He was already far too enthralled with the teen, he didn't even want to think about how far he would fall if he were to kiss those tempting lips.

Harry looked around curiously when they popped up near a graveyard. Barty just held onto his hand and pulled him along. He could only hope that Harry would… like seemed to be the wrong word to use. Barty hoped that Harry would not take it the wrong way.

Barty continued to pull Harry along until they stopped in front of two graves. Barty heard the shuddering breath Harry took, felt the slender body tremble in his hold.

"You gave me closure that day. It is painful still, but it is becoming more bearable. I wanted to gift you with the same." Barty let go of Harry when he felt the slight pull, and the teen dropped to his knees in front of the graves.

"Mom, Dad…" Barty barely caught the whisper. He didn't dare move. This was Harry's moment, he didn't want to interrupt in any way. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come." Harry leaned forward, brushing away the few leaves that were on the graves. "I didn't know where you were…" Harry hunched in on himself. "I'm sorry if I'm not what you wanted me to be. But I… I am happy, Mom, Dad. I know you might not approve, but I am happy." Harry stood again, and Barty was startled when Harry reached back and pulled him forward. "This is Barty. He was the one who brought me here. It's my choice, Mom, Dad. Please understand. I love you both. Thank you for giving me life, for saving me. You'll always be in my heart."

Barty wrapped his arms around Harry when he saw the tears trailing down his cheeks. Barty held him close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Barty closed his eyes when the lite body shook with sobs. Harry's hands gripped onto his coat, holding onto him as if he were a life-line.

Slowly, every so slowly, the sobs subsided. Barty held Harry's face between his hands and made Harry look up at him. The tears clinging to Harry's eye-lashes looked like tiny diamonds when the silvery light of the moon hit them and Barty had never seen a more enchanting sight.

"Barty, thank you."

Barty smiled slightly. "Any time." He would gladly do so much more for Harry.

Harry raised his hand, caressing his cheek, and Barty closed his eyes. Harry always played havoc with his control.

His eyes snapped open when he felt soft lips press against his own in a featherlight kiss. He looked wide-eyed at the blushing teen, and before he could really think about what he was doing he leaned down and sealed their mouths in a kiss.

It was chaste, but Harry melted into him, wrapping his arms around Barty's neck and holding him close.

This, Barty thought as they separated and a shy small graced Harry's lips, was something he wouldn't mind doing for the rest of his life.


	14. From Dusk til Dawn

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 55 (story title) From Dusk til Dawn

* * *

 **From Dusk til Dawn**

Barty glanced at the warm body curled next to him. He had been doing that every few minutes. He just couldn't believe it was true. He couldn't believe that Harry was _his_.

He had considered Harry his for a while now – even if he had never crossed that thin line – but now it was different. Harry had _kissed_ him. Harry had claimed him. And Barty couldn't believe that someone as wonderful as Harry would want him.

Barty wasn't blind to his flaws. He knew he was a broken mess full of sharp edges, and that the tattered remains of his sanity slipped from his hold more often than not. How could he be appealing to anyone, much less to Harry?

So, every time Harry curled at his side, or leaned in for a chaste kiss, he would still feel that spark of surprise.

They hadn't gone further than those small, chaste kisses. Not that Harry hadn't shown interest. Barty had seen those beautiful eyes darken with lust. He had felt the desire Harry had for him, but Barty was holding himself back.

Harry was still so young. He could do so much better than Barty. And while Barty freely admitted that he was a monster, he had heart enough to not taint this innocent that was so willing to give himself to him.

He smiled when the book Harry had been reading tumbled from his fingers. Gently, not wanting to waken the slumbering teen, he picked him up and made his way towards his bedroom.

He laid Harry on the bed and climbed in beside him, kissing Harry on the forehead when the Gryffindor snuggled into him.

He would not taint his innocent, but from dusk til dawn he would be selfish and keep him all to himself.


	15. What You'll Sorely Miss

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 30 (weather) Misty/Foggy

* * *

 **What You'll Sorely Miss**

Before they knew it, the second task was upon them. Barty wasn't happy with it at all. Just thinking about Harry being in that frozen lake, trying to save that Weasley, made him itch to curse something.

Weasley couldn't possibly be what Harry, his Harry, would miss the most. It was utterly absurd to think that Harry would miss that loud-mouthed buffoon. He contained a snarl when the fog made it difficult to see the lake.

And whose brilliant idea was it to make the second task inside the damned lake? What if Harry got hurt? How would he be able to tell if he wasn't able to see anything at all?

After an eternity of waiting, his Harry appeared, dragging that Weasley and someone else with him. Barty narrowed his eyes. He just knew that Harry playing the Golden Gryffindor would cause him to turn gray early.

He left the stands, walking closer to where the champions were. He just needed to make sure that Harry was alright. He needed to see that Harry was safe. Preferably he needed to hold Harry and feel his heartbeat. The last one was impossible at the time, so he would have to be satisfied with the first two.

He froze when he saw the Veela throw herself at his Harry and kiss him.

It took everything he had not to kill her on the spot. How dare that filthy Veela kiss Harry? How dare she touch him?

Barty turned around and made his way towards the castle. His sanity was hanging by a thread. He couldn't afford to lose it, not when there were so many people around.

He determinedly made his way towards the castle, letting the fog swallow him.


	16. Claiming

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 38 (restriction) Exactly 666 words long

Not counting the AN, it's 666 words long.

* * *

 **Claiming**

As soon as Harry walked through the door, Barty took hold of him and slammed him against the wall, attaching their mouths together.

Barty tasted those tempting lips, his tongue running along the seams of Harry's mouth. Harry opened his mouth and Barty lost no time in exploring the delicious cave. He urged Harry's tongue to play with his, and groaned when Harry sucked on the muscle.

He pulled away, taking a ragged breath, only to kiss down Harry's neck. He nipped and kissed down that pale expanse of skin. When Harry moaned he bit down hard, quickly soothing the bite with gentle licks. He knew he shouldn't, but he didn't care. He would make sure that everyone knew that Harry was taken.

"Barty," Harry moaned, wrapping one leg around his waist.

Barty groaned, grabbing Harry's hips and lifting him, letting Harry wrap both legs around his waist. Barty kissed again, unable to resist them for long. Harry ground against him, and Barty couldn't stop himself from thrusting against the Gryffindor. The friction was just too sweet of a temptation.

Barty had kept himself under control. He had resisted, even when Harry had slept beside him, looking like some angelic being just begging to be taken.

But he could only hold on for so long before he cracked, and seeing that Veela all over Harry had been the last straw. Harry may deserve better than him, but he was far too selfish to give him up. He didn't even know if he would be able to.

"Harry," he moaned, nuzzling the pale neck that he had once dreamed of wrapping his hands around for completely different reasons. "So good, Harry. My Harry." He could feel Harry's member rub against his stomach and knowing that he was the one doing this to Harry filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride. He was the one making Harry come undone. It was his name on Harry's sweet lips. And it would be him that would take Harry. Him and no one else.

"Barty, please, Barty. I need..." Harry mewled, and Barty sped up his thrusts, eager to see Harry in a way no one else had ever seen.

"Let go, Harry." He devoured Harry's mouth, swallowing the moan that he ripped from those lips. His eyes took in the erotic image of Harry tipping over the edge. It was enough to make him come undone.

He held onto Harry, letting their breathing return to normal. When he was sure that he would be able to support their weight, he pulled away from the wall and took Harry to his bedroom, laying him on the bed and slipping right beside him, wrapping himself around the slender teen.

He could still feel Harry's frantic heartbeat, though it was slowing with every beat. Harry cuddled closer, nuzzling his chest.

"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining, but it seemed as if you weren't interested in taking things further," Harry mumbled, sounding more asleep than awake.

Barty snorted. "Not interested? If it were up to me I would have you naked in my bed every hour of every day."

Harry blinked up at him, trying to fight of the call of Morpheus. "Then why didn't you do anything?"

Barty sighed and kissed the silky, messy, raven hair. "Because you are precious to me and I don't want to _taint_ you. I didn't want you to regret giving yourself to me, when you could have someone so much better than me."

"For a genius, you're an idiot," Harry grumbled, burying his head under Barty's chin. "I don't want anyone else but you. There's no one better for me. I don't care about anything else."

Barty felt his heart constrict. He truly didn't deserve the Gryffindor. But he was far too selfish to let anyone else have him. Just thinking about anyone else touching or kissing Harry left him on the brink of insanity.

They were long passed the point of no return.


	17. Death Eater

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 24 (object) Mask

* * *

 **Death Eater**

"Barty?"

Barty lifted his head from the book he was reading and looked at Harry, who was sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace. "Hum?"

"You're a Death Eater."

Barty closed the book and sat up straight. "Yes." He didn't know what Harry was getting at. They had never discussed it, but Harry had known from the beginning that he was a loyal Death Eater – though he had been courting the line between loyalty and betrayal quite closely lately. Not that he could bring himself to regret it, not when it got him Harry.

"I never saw you dressed like a Death Eater."

Barty raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to put on my robes and mask?"

Slowly, a blush appearing on his cheeks, Harry nodded. Barty sighed, shaking his head. "Alright." The smile that lit up Harry's face was well worth it. Though he admitted that he was a little afraid of what Harry's reaction might be to seeing him in his Death Eater robes.

During the war, those robes brought nothing but terror to the wizarding world. He knew for a fact that even members of the Outer Circle were afraid of what the black robes and silver masks represented. But Harry's reactions were always surprising him; maybe this time Harry would surprise him too.

A few minutes later, he walked out of the bedroom dressed in his Death Eater robes.

Harry's eyes went wide, and Barty could see him swallow. Harry stood up, slowly walking towards him. Harry stopped right in front of him, eyes roving over his body.

Barty didn't move, didn't speak.

Then Harry pushed him back, making him fall onto the sofa, and straddled his lap. Harry ripped his mask away, and Barty was able see green eyes dark with lust before his lips were caught in a ravenous kiss.

Yes… Harry certainly surprised him with his reaction.


	18. Dancing in the Rain

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 31 (weather) Heavy rain

* * *

 **Dancing in the Rain**

"You want to do what?"

"I want to go have a picnic."

Barty glanced out the window and raised an eyebrow. "It's the middle of the night, little one." He winced when Harry pouted at him. Dear Merlin, he was so glad that Bella, Rabastan, and Rodolphus were not here to see how whipped he was. He would never have been able to live it down. "Alright, we can go have a picnic."

Harry grinned, jumping to his feet. "Dobby!"

"Master Harry Potter, sir." Dobby, with a big picnic basket, popped in. "Be sure to dress warm, Master Harry."

"I will, Dobby, thank you."

Dobby grinned and popped away.

Barty got up, grumbling under his breath about devious, little minxes, and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. "How did you know I would agree?"

Harry snorted. "Barty, have you ever denied me anything?"

Barty kissed Harry on the top of his head. "I don't think I could." Barty sighed. "If I didn't know any better I would say you had me under a spell or potion."

Harry laughed, his eyes twinkling. "How do you know that I don't?"

"Because, little once, I found you fascinating from the first moment I saw you." Barty grinned at the blush he caused. It always amused him to see how easy it was to make Harry blush. It was a strange contradiction: Harry would blush at the smallest compliment, but he could be a teasing, little minx with absolutely no shame. It was just one more thing that he found endearing about the Gryffindor.

"Where will we be having our picnic?" Barty asked once they were outside.

"There's an oak further down the lake shore. It's far enough away that we won't be seen from Hogwarts nor from Hagrid's hut."

Barty just nodded, letting Harry pull him along. The night was cool but not overly cold, and the sky was beautiful. He certainly could have been doing worse things than having a picnic by the moonlight with Harry.

He chuckled when he saw the amount of treacle tart in the basket. It was Harry's absolute favorite, and that little elf always made some for Harry. He was surprised to see that there were strawberries and chocolate cake too – his personal favorite. He supposed that was the elf's way of saying he approved.

Before they could truly start their picnic they heard a loud rumble and it started pouring. They froze for a moment, before Barty jumped up, ready to race back towards the castle, only to slip and fall face first into the ground.

Harry's laughter could be heard even over the pouring rain. Barty pulled himself to his feet and looked at his little lover, doubled over with laughter, and grinned. It was good seeing Harry so happy, even if it was at his expense.

Feeling mischievous, he grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at Harry. Harry spluttered, gaping at him, and Barty couldn't contain his own laugh.

In seconds they descended into a vicious mud war, both laughing like crazy and splashing around in the rain. Barty ended up catching the younger wizard, stealing a sweet kiss, wrapping him in his arms and twirling him around. Both dancing to the sound of the rumbling thunder and pouring rain.

They looked a mess, but Harry was looking up at him with a joyful smile, and Barty knew that he himself was grinning from ear to ear. And to Barty, that was the best thing in the world.


	19. Dear Father

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 54 (location) The Shrieking Shack

* * *

 **Dear Father**

This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't in the plans. His father, _his father_ , wasn't supposed to escape!

Barty didn't even want to think about how furious his Lord must be. He was so thankful that Harry had told him about the passage below the Whomping Willow. If it hadn't been for that, he wouldn't have been able to get his father away before Dumbledore showed up.

He spun around, wand raised, when he heard noise behind him.

"It's just me," Harry murmured, taking off his Invisibility Cloak. Barty lowered his wand, pulling Harry against him. Just thinking about what his father could have done to Harry… Barty contained a shiver. He would rather not think about it.

"So, that's him?" Harry was glancing at the stunned man on the floor. Barty nodded, studying Harry's expressions. "Is his mind broken?"

"No. It was just a shabbily cast Imperius. No doubt Wormtail's work – good for nothing rat." Barty looked on as Harry made his way towards the man, using his foot to turn the man on his back. Harry flicked his wand and a tick collar wrapped around his father's neck. Another flick of Harry's wand and tick chains attached themselves to the collar and fastened to the floor. Another flick and his father was opening his eyes.

Barty studied the man, watching as he tried to see where he was and in what situation he had found himself in.

"Hello, Mr. Crouch." Harry stepped in front of the man, blocking his father from seeing him. "Do you know who I am?"

His father frowned. "Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Very good. You are coherent enough." Barty saw Harry turn towards him and smile, before turning back to his father.

A flash of light.

A scream.

Barty widened his eyes. Harry… Harry was going to torture his father. Barty wanted to laugh, to cackle. His beautiful, little lover wanted torture Barty's father. Who was Barty to deny him that? He was just happy that he could watch the show.

"You know, Mr. Crouch. I don't like you much at all." Harry broke his father's right leg, a new scream filling the silence. "In fact, I actually despise you." Harry broke the left leg. "I think you are nothing more than a hypocrite." And Harry broke his two arms at once. "Did you know, Mr Crouch, there are two hundred and six bones in the human body? Well, that's fine if you don't know, I'm willing to teach you. I'll break every single one of them, and I'll make sure that you know which one it is that is causing you such immeasurable pain."

Barty watched his father whimper, heard the nauseating sound of breaking bones and tearing flesh, and he couldn't be happier.


	20. One Step Closer

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 20 (creature/being) Werewolf

* * *

 **One Step Closer**

Barty had woken up long before dawn. He had been looking at Harry for the past half an hour. He was afraid that if he looked away, Harry would disappear. He couldn't believe how fast time had flown. How could they already be approaching the end of the year? How could they only be one day away from the third task? They were one step closer to the end, it was just that Barty didn't want it to end.

Harry stirred, sleepy green eyes blinking up at him. "Why are you awake?" Harry muttered, snuggling deeper under the covers. Barty grinned at the cute picture.

"I was just thinking."

Harry frowned, blindly patting his hand under the covers. "Think too much. Sleep now, think later."

"As you wish," he murmured, pulling Harry against him. He nuzzled Harry's neck, nipping and sucking until he saw a red mark forming. He felt almost like a werewolf with this need to mark Harry as his. But with the following day being the day of the Third Task, Barty thought that it was only natural that he was feeling as out of it as he was. One way or another, everything would change.

"Sleep," Harry grumbled, patting his chest. "Play later."

Barty smiled, kissing the messy hair that was tickling his nose. "Alright, I'll sleep." Barty held Harry close to him, doing his best to ignore the little voice in his mind that was telling him that this would be the last time he would be able to hold his little one.


	21. Shattered

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 11 (colour) Blood Red

* * *

 **Shattered**

"Please, Harry, be careful in the maze."

Harry leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You worry too much. Everything will be fine."

"Everything won't be fine!" Barty grabbed Harry's shoulders, wanting to shake him. "This is the last task Harry. It's–" he couldn't say more. He couldn't betray his Lord. But if Harry just didn't try, then everything would be alright.

Blood red lips stretched into a warm smile, and Barty felt unworthy of it. "I know, Barty. It's okay. I've known what you were from the beginning, haven't I? It didn't make me love you any less."

Then Harry walked away, leaving Barty frozen in place.

Harry _loved him_.

* * *

Barty held it together until he was safely in his room and had silencing wards up. Only then did he scream his anguish at the sky. His magic crackled around him as he sobbed his heartbreak away from prying eyes.

Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why didn't Harry do as he asked? Why? Why?

Soundless sobs wracked his body, shattering his brittle heart and shredding the tenuous hold he had on his sanity. Laughter left his lips even while tears ran down his cheeks. Harry was such a liar. Liar, liar, liar. Harry had promised, promised he wouldn't leave, and now he was gone. Gone! Just like that.

Barty felt his mark burn, and laughed harder, a crazed edge tainting every sound coming from his mouth.

He was back. His Lord was back. It was a glorious, glorious night! Their Lord's enemy was dead and their Lord was back to power. It was a night full of joy, and Barty would celebrate with all of them, because his Lord was back and he was so, _so_ , happy.

He laughed and laughed, while his tears never stopped falling. It was such a joyful night and Barty could feel nothing but the agony that filled every cell in his body.

His Lord was back. His Harry was dead.

"I love you too," he whispered to someone who would never again be there to hear the words.


	22. Waxen World

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 53 (location) Abandoned House (non-specific)

* * *

 **Waxen World**

He answered the call like all the other Death Eaters. They appeared in an abandoned house, and their eyes immediately fell on the imposing figure standing on a dais. All of them fell to their knees before their Lord.

Barty could feel the excitement from his fellow Death Eaters, and he knew he should feel the same, but there was nothing there. No spark of excitement. No shiver of anticipation. No burning rage for the man who had killed his little lover.

There was just nothing.

He rose when his Lord called, walked to his side and accepted the praise heaped upon him. And then his Lord told him to ask for something, a request and his Lord would grant it. It was a reward, his Lord told him.

Barty did something then that very few Death Eaters dared. He raised his head and looked into his Lord's eyes.

"There is nothing on this Earth that I wish for, my Lord."

Barty could practically taste the shock coming from the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord knew Barty better than his own father had known him. Barty was sure that the Dark Lord could see right through him into the black hole his soul had become.

With Harry gone, there was nothing.

With Harry gone, everything that was good and light and worth something was gone as well. There was no color left in the world, just a black abyss that had taken the place Harry used to be. Barty was sure that the Dark Lord could see all of it, even if he didn't know what might have caused it.

Barty just continued to stare blankly ahead until he was dismissed.

With Harry gone, Barty was lost.


	23. Happiness

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 19 (creature/being) Dementor/Lethifold

* * *

 **Happiness**

It had been a week.

A week with no sleep.

A week with no laughter.

A week devoid of shy smiles and devious grins.

A week since he had tasted sweet lips and salty skin.

A week since he had heard breathy moans and whispered pleas.

It had been a week since Harry had died and Barty had stopped living.

It was only fair, wasn't it? Harry was dead, what right did Barty have to live? If it hadn't been for Barty, Harry would have been alive and well. Barty might not have been with him, but he was more than willing to sacrifice his happiness if it meant that Harry could live.

Happiness… happiness was a thing of the past. Barty felt as if a dementor was shadowing his every step, seeping the happiness from his soul and the warmth from his body. But that was not the case. Even dementors stayed away from him. Even they knew that Barty was nothing more than a walking corpse.


	24. Dearest Wish

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 15 (colour) Dark Purple

* * *

 **Dearest Wish**

Barty waited for his Lord to call him in, looking around the corridor. The abandoned house they had been using was slowly being repaired – the work of house-elves no doubt – and the corridor in the upper part of the house was a dark purple. A strong, royal color. It didn't surprise him that his Lord had picked that one. His Lord had always enjoyed the richer, stronger colors.

His mark burned, signaling that his Lord could receive him, and Barty made his way inside. He bowed as soon as he was in, waiting for his Lord to acknowledge him.

"Barty, what is it?"

Barty straightened, locking eyes with his Lord.

"My Lord, there is something I would like to request." His Lord tilted his head slightly. "I wish for death, my Lord."

The slight widening of his Lord's eyes showed just how much his request had surprised him. In any other situation, Barty would have chuckled at having been able to surprise his Lord, but this wasn't one of those situations. Truthfully, Barty didn't think he could chuckle anymore.

"You wish to die?"

"I do, my Lord." Harry would be so angry with him, he knew. But Barty was sure that Harry would understand. One could not ask a man to live without their heart and soul.

"Why come to me?"

"I am a loyal Death Eater." He was. So very loyal. He had lost everything for the cause, for his Lord, and now, please, please, please, he just wanted to rest. He wanted to be with his love. Hear his laughter and hold him in his arms again. "My life and death are yours, my Lord. I would never end my own life if there was a chance that you might still have use of me."

He had been good, so good, so loyal. Please, let him free, let him go. Let him find his heart and soul again.

"Why?"

Why? Why? _Why_?

Barty laughed, the cracks showing more than ever.

"He died. What use is there to life?"

"For love?"

Barty smiled, soft and tender, a smile only Harry had ever seen.

"I always said love was a weakness."

"It is a weakness I will not live without, my Lord."

"I need you to do something with me the day after tomorrow. If after that you still wish for death, I will grant it."

Barty bowed low, relief washing over him, soothing frazzled nerves and sharp edges.

"Thank you, my Lord."


	25. One More Day

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 25 (object) Cloak/Cape

* * *

 **One More Day**

For the first time since Harry had left, Barty felt something more than the nothingness that had threatened to drown him. He took off his cloak and his Death Eater robes and flung himself onto the bed. His Lord, his merciful Lord, had granted his request.

One day. He would just have to hang on for one more day and then he would he able to be with his Harry again.

He would be able to hold him and whisper to him that he loved him, like he should have done so many times before. He should have fallen asleep whispering how much he loved Harry, and woken him up telling him once more.

He had missed so many opportunities.

But he would make up for it. He would. He would spend eternity saying those three little words, making sure that Harry knew. And, hopefully, Harry would whisper them back.

That one time that Harry had so nonchalantly told him that he loved him was Barty's most cherished memory.

And the following day, his Lord would finally grant his request.

It was only right that the man who had separated them would be the one to unite them once more.


	26. Sleeping Beauty

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 22 (object) Cauldron

* * *

 **Sleeping Beauty**

Barty apparated to his Lord's side as soon as he felt his mark burn. He was giddy with anticipation. Soon, soon he would be with his little lover, and then they would have eternity together.

A house-elf took him to the potions labs, where his Lord stood in front of a cauldron. His Lord glanced at him, and held out a vial with a deep blue potion.

"Hold onto this. Don't lose it, or we will have to wait another week until a new batch is made."

"Yes, my Lord." Barty took the vial, slipping it into his pocket and putting all sorts of wards on it. He didn't want to wait even longer to be with Harry.

His Lord held onto his shoulder and with a near silent pop they were gone.

* * *

Barty looked around the hall they had appeared in, silently wondering where they were. His Lord said nothing, just started walking, and Barty knew he had to follow.

They stopped in front of a door, his Lord seemingly deep in thought. Then his Lord sighed. "Go in. Use the potion that I gave you. If you still seek death afterward, come find me."

Barty continued looking at the door for a moment or two, then he shrugged. He didn't want to delay any longer.

He stepped into the room and froze in place.

There, in the middle of the bed, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, was Harry.

With wobbly steps, he walked towards the bed, his eyes roving over the slender body. His mind must have finally cracked. The last shred of sanity he had must have slipped away from him without him noticing.

Slowly, almost afraid to touch, he raised his hand and caressed the soft cheek. He laughed, part elation, part hysteria.

He was alive. Harry was alive!

His eyes widened as he remembered the potion his lord had given him. He took it out of his pocket, uncorked it and spelled the contents into his Harry's stomach.

A heartbeat, and then another, and those mesmerizing eyes blinked open.

"Harry." The name was nothing more than a breathy whisper on his lips, and green eyes focused on him.

Harry smiled.

Barty was alive again.


	27. Once More

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 34 (food/drink) Pumpkin Pie/Juice/Spiced Latte*

* * *

 **Once More**

"Harry?" Barty whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Harry smiled, sitting up on the bed. "Barty, I knew you would come."

"I… I don't understand. I thought you were dead."

"And if it weren't for you, I would be." Harry patted the bed on his side, and Barty lost no time in joining him on it. He melded his body close to Harry. He needed to feel him, to make sure he was alive.

"When the portkey took me out of the maze, I knew something would happen. So, when I arrived, I was ready. Wormtail is an incompetent wizard on the best of days, so it was no hard feat to stun him. Then, Voldemort and I talked. I told him about us, told him everything about me. Voldemort agreed not to kill me, but as I would never become a Death Eater we had to find another way to bind me to his side. So, Voldemort adopted me, making me his son and Heir."

Barty's mind was racing at the implications of Harry being the Dark Lord's Heir, but at the moment, Barty cared nothing for those things.

He leaned down, crashing their lips together. He moaned when the much missed taste of Harry hit him.

"Missed you," Barty mumbled against his lips. "Missed you so much."

Harry moaned, wrapping his arms around Barty's neck and pulling him down. "Missed you too. So, so much."

Barty covered Harry's body with his own, thrusting their groins together and moaning at the delicious friction. He knew Harry was still too young, but he couldn't wait anymore. He would take him, mark him as his, so that no one could take Harry from him.

He was just about to divest Harry of his shirt, when Harry's stomach rumbled. They froze, a fierce blush starting to spread on Harry's cheeks.

Barty chuckled, leaning his forehead against Harry's. "My love, maybe we could leave this for after you have eaten."

Harry nodded sheepishly, and Barty couldn't resist placing another kiss on those soft lips.

An elf popped into the room – Dobby, if Barty wasn't mistaken – with a platter full of cakes and pies. Harry grabbed a pumpkin pie and settled down to eat, never once complaining about Barty still having a firm hold of his right hand.


	28. Haven

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 10 (word) Mysterious

* * *

 **Haven**

Barty finally learned that the mysterious house they were in was a Slytherin estate; something like a retreat for the Heir when he wanted a little peace. Barty dubbed it their little haven, and was more than happy to spend as much time there as possible.

Even his Lord hadn't called upon him, though Barty knew that his Lord was forming plans.

Harry seemed to care very little about the preparations being made, spending most of his time teasing Barty endlessly.

Barty was able to hold on to his control through some miracle, but more often than not he wanted nothing more than to push Harry against the nearest flat surface and ravish him utterly. Like right now.

"You teasing minx," he growled, nipping at the neck that was bared to him. "You're driving me insane." He kissed Harry, stealing his breath away. "Tell me what you want," he purred, smirking when he felt Harry shiver.

"Please, Barty," Harry mewled, thrusting against him, trying to get as much friction as was possible.

Barty closed his eyes at the erotic sight. Harry could be so eager. Barty popped open the button from Harry's jeans and slid his hand inside. Harry keened when Barty wrapped his hand around his straining member.

"Yes! Barty!"

Barty groaned, slamming their mouths together. He thrust against Harry, seeking some friction, while he watched Harry come undone under his touch. Harry moaned, his legs giving up on him, only Barty's weight pushing him against the wall keeping him upright. Barty pumped Harry through his orgasm, feasting on the minute shivers that wracked his lover's body.

With one more thrust he came, sagging against Harry.

"I love you, my Harry," he murmured, breathing hard.

When Harry replied, "I love you too," Barty was sure he was in heaven.


	29. He's Back

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 41 (feeling) Panic

* * *

 **He's Back**

Barty and Harry were enjoying their time together when the news broke out.

Voldemort had taken Azkaban, freed his imprisoned followers, and announced his return to the World.

Panic had spread in a heartbeat. Witches and wizards were clamoring for the Minister to keep them safe. Barty snorted at the absurdity, as if an incompetent wizard like Fudge would be able to do anything against the Dark Lord.

Just to prove his point, the Dark Lord had decimated all the aurors that had been stationed at the prison.

"You're jittery," Harry remarked, leaning against him. Barty sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"I am. Don't take me wrong; I love our little haven, I just miss the raids. The adrenaline, the rush one gets when facing someone in battle."

"No one said you have to stay here." Harry smiled at him. That wonderful smile that Barty once thought that he would never see again. "I'll ask Voldemort when the next raid is and we can go."

"You want to go?"

Harry laughed, a devious smirk spreading on his lips. "I have to test the curses you taught me on someone, don't I?"

Barty laughed, pulling Harry into a fierce kiss.

Merlin, he loved that teen.


	30. Fallen

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 42(feeling) Suspicion

* * *

 **Fallen**

Barty cackled, dancing around the battlefield. He had missed this, he had missed the blood and death. He had missed feeling the adrenaline rush through him as he twisted and turned to avoid spells.

He blew a wizard's head off, getting splattered in his blood, and laughed some more. He was all for doing things the political way, but this… this was something else.

There was a flash of vibrant green, then there was a shield around him.

"Focus, Barty. I don't want you to get hurt." Barty could hear the pout in his lover's voice, even if the mask stopped him from seeing it.

"Alright, my love," he said, paying more attention now that Harry was by his side. Harry had remained by the Dark Lord's side through most of the raid. Barty had seen the suspicion the others had felt when their eyes landed on Harry. He hadn't liked it, but for the moment there was little he could do.

He heard Harry laugh and turned just in time to see Harry turn a wizard inside out. Barty's eyes darkened, and before he could stop himself he wrenched Harry's mask free. He hardly heard the gasp coming from the wizards and witches around them. All of them realizing that the vicious fighter was their Savior. Barty cared for none of it. All he cared about was those plump lips, curled into a smirk, begging to be kissed.

And that's exactly what he did.


	31. Again and Again

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Collection of related one-shots, in chronological order, pertaining to Barty and Harry.**

 **Written for the Harry Potter** ** **Halloween Collection Competition****

 **Prompt:** 43 (feeling) Terrified

* * *

 **Again and Again**

The two lovers tumbled onto the bed, their clothes painting a trail from the door to their destination. Both moaned when their naked skin touched. Slowly, gently, Barty spread his lover, delighting with every gasp, every moan he wrung from those kiss-abused lips.

He watched, burning every expression, every sound, into his memory.

Harry looked exquisite in the throes of passion, and no one but Barty would ever see him.

When nothing but pleas for more came from those lips Barty thrust in, eyes closing as the searing heat enveloped his member. It took everything he had to still, to let Harry adjust, but every time Harry clenched around him Barty could swear that he reached nirvana.

He claimed those sinful lips, and pulled out, before slamming into the wonderful heat. Harry's moans and gasps were music to his ears, and he allowed himself to be lost to the pleasure that was coursing through his body.

While outside those walls war raged and the terrified public clamored for their Savior, their Chosen One; inside the safety of their haven the lovers lost themselves in each other again and again.


End file.
